I turned to Brandon, who sat quietly in the corner, his usual polished demeanor softened by alcohol.

His preppy sweater was slightly rumpled - so unlike him. "Brandon, you okay? I brought some hangover pills if you want them."

Poor guy looked rough - eyes glazed, clearly way past his limit.

"Thanks," Brandon nodded, looking up at me with alcohol-brightened eyes, suddenly resembling an eager grad student waiting for help from his favorite ...